


Heart on Fire

by jonsasnow



Series: Jonsa Week 2017 [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arranged Marriage AU, F/M, Jonsa Week 2017, Jonsa smut, NSFW, Smut, So yes, and jon is a prince, and this is a made up world, but like sansa is a princess, jonsa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-22 02:15:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12471232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonsasnow/pseuds/jonsasnow
Summary: The night before Sansa is to meet her betrothed, she runs away to a nearby bar and falls under the spell of a hot curly-haired bartender.





	Heart on Fire

**Author's Note:**

> day 2 of the jonsa week!!!
> 
> this took so long to do for some reason. 
> 
> hope you like it!

“You shouldn’t be doing this.”

Sansa chuckled while peering around the corner. Once she was positive the coast was clear, she glanced back at her friend ( _and_ bodyguard) with a grin. “Quit your worrying, Brienne. I’ll be back before you know it.” 

The blonde woman sighed. “At least let me come with you.” 

“Not a chance,” Sansa said, placing her hands on her hips. “I need you here to run interference in case anyone notices I’m gone.” The look on Brienne’s face however made her sigh; she really didn’t want to get into it again when she was so close to freedom. “I need this _please_. Tomorrow, I’m going to meet the man I'm supposed to be married off to and I just need one night where I’m not… _me_.” 

Her friend sighed and it was as good of a sign as any that she wasn’t going to fight Sansa on this, so before Brienne could change her mind, Sansa slipped out into the cool night air. 

Now, if she was going to be made queen of some country she hardly knew to a man she knew even less of, Sansa was going to have one last hurrah with a filthy hot stranger she’d never have to see again. 

\---

The bar was busy tonight, but it always was on a Saturday evening and Jon relished the constant flow of customers and the loud pulsing dance music reverberating through the place. It was easy to lose himself in the excitable weekend buzz and it certainly helped keep his thoughts from straying to his own problems. 

Not to mention the beautiful redhead sitting at the end of the bar that Jon couldn’t stop staring at no matter how many times he told himself _not_ to pick up girls while on the job. But she was the kind of beautiful he knew he’d never be able to keep as a one night stand. No, this was the kind of girl you chased, the type you wanted to marry and bring home to your parents. 

But there was a twinkle in her eyes, a deviousness in the way she laughed that made Jon wonder if she wasn’t also the type of girl to run her nails down his back and pull at his hair. 

“If all ya gonna do is just stare at girls, ya might as well go home, Snow.”

Jon snapped to the present, realising he had been buffing the inside of this tumbler glass for the past five minutes. He smiled sheepishly at his friend. “Aye, sorry, Torm. I was just…” 

“Yeah, I know gingers are bloody beautiful, but get your head in the game and not the one in between your legs, ya prick,” his friend smirked and knocked his shoulder as he passed by. 

Jon rolled his eyes, but for the next half hour, he did actively try _not_ to glance her way, and it was working too until he heard a soft voice call for his attention. Jon willed himself to stay cool as he turned towards her, giving her his best aloof but friendly bartender smile, and made his way forward. He leaned against the counter. “What can I get ya, love?” 

_Fuck_. Did he sound as unbelievably pathetic as he thought he did? 

The girl laughed. “Another vodka cranberry would be alright. Thank you.” 

“Your accent,” Jon blurted out. “You’re not from around here?” 

“Oh,” she blushed and looked down at her empty glass. “Is it that obvious?” 

“You sound a bit posh, love,” he said teasingly. “Definitely classier than the likes of this lot.” 

“I’m plenty classy, Snow!” shouted Tormund from the back. 

Jon sighed, though he couldn’t help the fond smile on his face. “ _Far_ classier,” he added.

She laughed again, melodic and soft like she was trying to hide the sound away, and then shrugged. “You caught me. I’m not from around here.” 

“Aye,” Jon nodded. “And so where _are_ ya from?”

She arched her brow as she pushed the glass forward. “I think that’s a second drink kind of question, don’t you?” 

Jon grinned, bowing to her before retreating back to his station to quickly make her drink. He knew he was neglecting his other customers, but he just saw Edd walk in from the back and he figured between the two of them, they’d manage without Jon for awhile. Honestly, at this point he was so intrigued by the redhead, he’d be willing to get fired, not that he thought Tormund had the guts to ever fire Jon. He was their best bartender by far. 

“Here you go, m’lady.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Funny.” 

“I aim to please,” Jon said with a grin. “So,” he pressed one arm against the counter, “what’s your story? Rebelling against the parents? Runaway bride? Celebrity in disguise?”

“All of them,” she smirked. “There’s no story. Can’t a girl just have a drink without an interrogation from her bartender?” 

“Oh,” Jon said, pulling back. Had he read the signs wrong? _Oh god…_ “I’m sorry. I was just kidding… I’ll – umm, I’ll go.” He began to move away when her hand fell over his forearm and squeezed gently. 

“Or maybe the girl likes talking to her hot bartender,” she said, smiling. “It certainly beats sitting here alone.” 

Jon’s cheeks flushed from the unexpected compliment and he remained frozen half on the counter and half off. “Yeah, umm… I guess it does.” 

Her smile grew into a smirk and she trailed her fingers down his arm until they were dancing across his knuckles. “My name’s Sansa.” 

“Jon… it’s Jon,” he said, swallowing tightly. He watched with rapt attention as Sansa turned his hand over, drawing featherlight circles along his palm. “So is asking if you have a boyfriend a second or third drink kind of question?” 

\--- 

Her back hit the wall with a resounding thud, a starburst of pain exploded along her lower back. It would’ve been enough to draw her out of the haze of desire that had clouded her judgement the moment she laid eyes on him, but at that moment, Jon had pulled away from her lips to trail suckling kisses down the column of her neck and she lost herself in the sensation.

“I might get fired for this,” he whispered. Sansa murmured nonsensically in response, tightening her arms around his neck, and pressing open-mouthed kisses to his cheek. He laughed. “I see you don’t care at all about my job.” 

She carded her fingers through his hair and tugged sharply. “I care more that you keep talking when you could be doing other things.” And to drive home her point, Sansa pulled his lower lip in between her teeth, eliciting a guttural groan from the man that made desire curl hot and desperate at her core. He leaned back, just enough to watch her, and Sansa saw the same desire mirrored in his darkening grey eyes until they were as black as night. 

Jon’s grip around her thighs tightened and he pushed her more firmly back against the wall. He bent his head forward to nose at the collar of her top, as if saying that it was about time she got rid of her clothes. Sansa didn’t have to be told twice. She tore it off of her body in one fluid move and smirked as Jon’s eyes swept over her chest appreciatively. She thanked the gods then that she had opted for her lacy red bra instead of the dull boring grey one she had worn earlier in the day. Not that Sansa had had plans to come to a bar and pick up a hot bartender. At most, she had expected a steamy makeout session, something she could think back on and giggle about, but this was dirtier, _filthier_ than she ever thought she, Sansa, Princess of Winterfell, could ever be capable of. And maybe she would regret this in the morning when the reality of what she was doing came back to her, but she couldn’t feel anything other than the deep arousal this man ignited in her. 

Sansa cried out as Jon kissed her through the thin fabric of her bra before circling his tongue over her nipple. She wanted more, _needed_ more, and she tried to tell him so by tugging even more harshly on his hair. To Jon’s credit, he did try to comply, even beginning to pull her bra down with his teeth, his hot breath pebbling her nipple as he went, but then suddenly, the door to the supply closet burst open, a blinding light falling on them both. 

Sansa cried out again, this time for far less pleasurable reasons, and pressed herself against Jon to hide her modesty. 

“Oh _mate_ , seriously?” the big ginger man said with a shake of his head. “We thought you’d gone home hours ago!” 

“Tormund! Shut the fucking door!” Jon shouted, though his forehead was resting against Sansa’s bare shoulder, making her shiver involuntarily and him groaning quietly in response. 

“Alright, alright, I get it!” the man said. “But just a reminder, you’ve got an early morning tomorrow.” 

Jon let out a loud huff as the door shut loudly behind them. For a long second, silence descended upon them, both too lost in their own thoughts, but then Jon was moving backwards, slowly lowering Sansa to the floor. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, a sheepish smile on his face. “I guess this wasn’t one of our better ideas.”

Sansa smiled back, her cheeks undoubtedly as red as hair. “I can safely say it’s certainly my most adventurous idea to date.” 

“Yeah,” he laughed as he rubbed a hand down his neck. “I don’t exactly do this either.” At the speculative look she sent him, he laughed again. “Oh, c’mon. I’m not really very smooth, am I? And… and I don’t know. Picking up girls at my place of work seems to be a bad idea.” 

“Probably,” she said, chuckling with him. “I guess that makes me special, huh?” 

Jon bent down to pick up her top and hand it to her. There was a strange expression on his face that she couldn’t quite decipher, but it was… _affectionate?_

“Yeah, you could say that, love,” he said. 

Sansa shrugged on her top and decided that it was probably time to head home. She was going to have to face her reality sooner or later, and it was probably a good thing she didn’t just sleep with a complete stranger the night before meeting the man she’d have to marry.

“Good night, Jon,” she said, kissing him once more on the lips. “I truly wish we had more time together.” 

As the door closed behind her, Sansa felt an unexpected sadness wash over her, but she pushed it aside. It was time to go back to reality. 

\--- 

“If he’s the _second_ son then why am I marrying him again?”

Her mother fussed with her hair, weaving blue winter roses through her copper plaits, while Jeyne applied a second coat of rouge to her lips. “Sweetheart, I told you this before,” her mother said with an exasperated sigh. “It was a huge scandal back in the day. The king had annulled his marriage to his first wife and then married his mistress.” 

“Is that even allowed?” Sansa asked, paling at how utterly cruel a man could be to do that to his own wife and children and what that meant for her now that she was marrying into this family. 

Her mother seemed to sense this as she placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We know you’re wary, Sansa, and we were too, but we have it in good faith that your betrothed is nothing like his father.” 

Sansa made a noncommittal noise because even if she protested, which she would never do, there was nothing anyone could do now to stop the marriage. They had been betrothed to one another from the day Sansa was born, and though it was uncommon for the betrothed to only be meeting now a week before the wedding, no one seemed to even bat an eye for Sansa and this prince of hers. Apparently he had been sent off to live elsewhere by his mother, away from the politics of the palace, for his own good and he had only just returned to the country a year ago. 

“Done!” chirped Jeyne. “You actually look like a princess now!” 

“Shut up,” Sansa groaned, resisting the urge to rub a hand over her face. She normally liked getting dressed up and put in fancy dresses, but she’d had barely three hours of sleep before the makeup brigade decided it was time to start getting ready. 

“Well, it’s not _my_ fault that someone decided to have a late night!” Jeyne chided. 

“What?” her mother asked, keen eyes watching them both as if she could pry the information out simply by glaring. 

“Nothing, mother,” Sansa said instantly. “I was just so nervous I couldn’t sleep last night.” 

“Oh,” her mother nodded, though she didn’t look fully believing. “Well, okay, sweetheart. Jeyne, could you please help Sansa into her dress? We’re due in the Great Hall in ten minutes.”

With a heavy heart and what bravery she displayed last night in the soles of her feet, Sansa forced herself to enter through the double doors with its gilded handles. Extravagant, but this family was known for its ostentatious taste. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the only thing they were known for and their past would undoubtedly mar her opinion of this prince no matter what anyone had said about him. She would not believe in the kindness of a stranger until she spoke to him herself.

As Sansa strolled forward, her father greeted her with a kiss to her cheek and immediately she was ushered forward towards man, whose back was facing hers. Her thoughts of rudeness and arrogance, however, disappeared on the fringes of her mind when the prince turned around. 

Her heart stuttered in her chest and she spoke before she could stop herself. “ _You!_ ” 

“Shit,” he said, before those wide grey eyes took in the surrounding members of her family. He grabbed hold of her wrist and began tugging her away. “I think if the princess doesn’t mind, we could get to know each other in private. Is that okay with you, _princess_?” 

Sansa gritted her teeth, but kept a warm smile on her face as she said, “yes, of course, _Prince Targaryen_. Lead the way.” 

He pulled her out through a different door, down a long corridor where portraits of his ancestors stared down at them, and into a private study that appeared at first glance completely hidden from the world. As soon as he was sure they were alone, he turned to face her. 

“You weren’t kidding when you said you weren’t from around here.” 

“Is _that_ what you want to say to me right now?” Sansa was fuming. She hated to be made a fool out of and she certainly felt like a fool right now. “Did you know? Did you know it was me last night?”

Jon’s face was incredulous. “No, of course not! I had no idea!” 

“Then… Then _what!_ ” she shouted. “What the hell were you doing last night at a bar?” 

He ran a hand over his face. “Shit, okay.” Jon walked over to a plush leather sofa and dropped down onto it with a loud sigh. “When I moved back to Dragonstone last year, I hated it. I hated _everything_ about this place and that included my father, so my mother suggested I find a hobby, something to help ease the transition.” 

“So you chose bartending?” Sansa asked, a brow arched in scepticism. 

“Strange, I know,” he said. “But I knew Tormund from the army. We served together and when I found out he had opened up a bar in the city here, I thought that maybe I could help him out. One night of bartending turned into several nights and then the next thing I know I was working full shifts and getting paid for it.” He made a face then. “Not that I needed the money but Tormund’s a proud bastard and wouldn’t let me work for free. Of course all the money I made, I just invested it back into the bar.” 

It was absurd. Frankly, the most absurd story she had ever heard, yet somehow, for some equally absurd reason, Sansa believed him. She dropped into the opposite sofa and shook her head. “I can’t believe this is happening.” 

Jon laughed. “If it makes you feel any better, I can’t either.” He shifted in his seat to better look at her, suddenly a solemn expression taking over his already so-serious features. “You can’t tell anyone, Sansa. No one knows. My mother would have a heart attack if she found out and my father would kill me if _he_ knew.” 

“Trust me,” she started with a bashful smile. “I don’t need anyone asking me about last night either. Sneaking out and making out with strangers isn’t exactly the princess-like thing to do.” 

“No, I suppose it’s not,” Jon said, a dangerous smile pulling now at his lips. “But can’t say that I’m too disappointed that it’s the type of thing _this_ princess does.” He got up from the sofa and began walking towards her. “Makes it hard for a man to forget her.” He kneeled before and placed both hands on either side of her thighs. “ _Really_ hard.” 

As his fingers ghosted across her leg, Sansa shivered visibly at the sensation. “Jon, this is a worse idea than the last night. Do you know _who_ could walk in on us now?” 

“So let them,” he laughed, bunching up the skirt of her dress in his fist. “We’re soon to be married, love. I think we’re supposed to be sleeping together.” 

Sansa’s breath hitched when she felt his hand dip underneath the fabric to trail across her bare skin. She leaned her head back against the sofa and closed her eyes. “We’re supposed to have sex _after_ the wedding. Not before. And _not_ in broad daylight when any one of our family members could walk in on us.” 

Jon’s fingers brushed gently over her underwear causing Sansa to jerk forward, a breathless cry escaping her lips. “Aye, but isn’t that the fun of it?” he said, smirking up at her. He pressed his thumb against the bundle of nerves at her apex through the thin satin cloth, teasing slowly before drawing a line down her slit, and then back up again. 

Sansa’s heart raced as she tried to keep from screaming out his name. She curled her hands into fists and rocked against his hand, desperate for more friction, for more of _anything_ that could bring her that much closer to the edge. “ _Jon_ ,” she exhaled. “I swear if you don’t stop teasing me, I’m going to…”

“Do what, love?” he asked at the same time he pulled aside her underwear and pushed a finger into her core. Sansa whimpered, biting down on her tongue to keep from crying out, and Jon let out a breathy laugh. “Silence is a virtue, Sansa.” 

“ _Bite me_.” 

“Gladly.” 

And with that, Jon surged forward, one hand still moving urgently against her, while the other one rose to cup her chin and pull her towards him so he could kiss her fully on the lips and then drawing back to bite her lower lip as she had done to him the night before. Pushing in a second finger, Jon began to circle her clit with his thumb, bringing her that much closer to release, and as her breaths grew shorter, faster, Sansa wasn’t sure if she could really keep from screaming out this time. 

“Oh gods, Jon…” She craned her neck forward, desperate to capture his lips with hers. “I’m going to… shit, Jon!” Wordlessly, Sansa threw her head back and rode the waves of orgasm as stars exploded behind her eyes.

“I thought you were beautiful last night,” Jon murmured, kissing her on the side of the neck. “But you look even better when you’re coming.” 

“Oh, shut up, Jon,” she said once she’d managed to catch her breath, but she was smiling so the words had less bite than normal. “You’re so insufferable, you know that?” 

“I’ve been told.” He laughed and pressed another kiss to just under her jaw. “But you _are_ beautiful.” 

Sansa tilted her head to kiss him, circling her hands around his wrist, and using the element of surprise to pull him onto the sofa and then turn them so she was now straddling his lap. She quickly made work of his belt and the zipper at his trousers. Once she had him undone, Sansa reached down and gripped him in her hand. “I’d return the compliment,” she murmured as she placed a kiss to the spot behind his ear. “But I think I’d rather just show you my gratitude.” 

There weren’t many things in life that Sansa was truly confident about. She knew she was beautiful, she had been told by many, and she knew she was a competent politician. She had worked hard all of her life to be able to hold her own in a room full of men and their oversized egos. But sex – that wasn’t something she had that much inexperience with. As a princess, eldest daughter destined to be married off to be queen, there weren’t many boys who were willing to risk being seen with her, but Sansa knew what she wanted. And right now, she wanted Jon. She wanted to feel him inside of her, moving _with_ her. 

Sansa felt him harden under her movements and so she quickly pulled away her now soaked underwear and guided him to her opening. She teased his head against her clit, feeling the arousal burn a fire down to the pit of her stomach. Sansa moaned as she continued to draw him up and down her slit, stopping at her nub until she thought she could come from just that touch alone, before moving down again. 

“You’re fucking killing me here,” Jon rasped out. His eyes were hooded as they looked up at her, his fingers trailing up her spine through the open back of her dress. Her body shivered at the innocent touch. “I need you, love. _Please_.” 

“I think I’m going to love making you beg for it,” she grinned, as coy and seductive as she felt last night, but Jon was right. Her own ministrations were fucking killing her too, and without another moment’s hesitation, Sansa slid down onto him and the feel of him stretching her walls so completely made her gasp out loud. “Oh my god.” 

“Yeah, my sentiments exactly,” Jon said, thrusting up into her, eliciting another gasp from her. “Shit, Sansa. You feel so fucking good.” He ran his hand up to the nape of her neck to draw her in for a searing kiss that was as hot and as arousing as the sensation of him inside of her. 

Sansa moved against him, her hands holding onto his shoulder for purchase, as she met him thrust for thrust. Her cries began to grow louder, nonsensical words and exclamations becoming more frequent as their pace began to get more frantic and desperate. 

“Sansa?” someone called out from outside. “Jon?” 

She caught Jon’s eyes and there was a look of sheer panic reflected in his eyes. With a wordless agreement passing between them, Jon curled his hands bruisingly around her hips and flipped them so her back was on the sofa and he was kneeling over her. Although this angle wasn’t nearly as fun as her riding on top of him, Jon could set a pace that was as brutally fast and unforgivingly aggressive as he wanted and Sansa could hardly begin to regret the change in position when he was pushing her closer and closer to her release. 

“Where the hell did they go?” 

Jon closed his mouth over her breast, using his teeth to bite into the fabric over her nipple and tugging in a way that made pain and pleasure spark from the contact, and that was all it took for Sansa to go hurtling off of the edge. Her body trembled through wave after wave of her orgasm. It took only seconds after for Jon to follow, his grunts muffled by the fabric of her dress, and his hands squeezing convulsively against her hips. 

As he fell on top of her, his weight pressing her against the sofa, Sansa opened her eyes, every inch of skin alight with the aftershocks. “We need to get up,” she murmured to him. Jon groaned in return. “C’mon. Before they find us like this.” 

\---

Reluctantly, Jon pulled himself out, grimacing slightly at the sticky sensation that oozed between them. He quickly rushed to the desk and grabbed a box of tissue to help clean up the mess, wiping Sansa gently before cleaning up after himself. 

“What?” he asked once he caught her bizarre expression.

Sansa shook her head, the smile, however, still there. “Nothing. It’s just… If someone told me I’d be having sex with the person I was going to marry ten minutes into our first meeting, I’d say they were on drugs.”

Jon laughed, though he knew exactly how she felt. “Aye. Can’t say I expected this either.” 

“There you go again!” she said, pointing at him. “You’re…. You don’t sound like the rest of the Targaryens. You almost sound… _Northern_.” 

“I grew up near the Wall,” Jon admitted with a shrug. People often thought he went to a prestigious boarding school for royalty or something similar, but Rhaegar had sent him away to be trained as a soldier. Although his upbringing had been less than desirable for a child, it was probably the best thing Rhaegar ever did for him. 

“That’s near Winterfell,” Sansa said thoughtfully. “Oh gods, you’re probably more Northern than I am, aren’t you?” 

He laughed again. It was too easy to do that around her. “Probably, love. You _are_ rather posh.” 

She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “I am posh because I had to be! Now if I was a second daughter like my sister, Arya, maybe I would’ve been more free to do what I wanted. Ride horses all day and speak all improper-like.” 

Jon brushed her hair behind her ear and kissed her softly on the forehead. “From what I can tell, you’re exactly who you should be.” He didn’t know where that came from or why his chest felt so tight all of a sudden, but it was the truth and he needed her to know that. “Now, come, my future queen,” Jon said, standing up. “Let’s make ourselves presentable and go face the music.”

She frowned, her pretty pink lips pouting in a way that made him want to throw her over his shoulder and run up to his room with her, but Jon forced himself to refrain.

“I’m going only because I want to move up the wedding,” Sansa said, and there was that mischievous smile he’d come to adore so well now. “I don’t think I can’t wait a whole week to do that again.” 

“Who says we have to?” 

She rolled her eyes. “ _I_ do. This was a one time deal, Jon Targaryen. If you want to sleep with me again, you’re just going to have to make me your wife.”

“How about my queen?” Jon smirked. 

Sansa arched her brow. “Your father is still alive.” 

Jon shrugged. “He’s going to have to die sometime.” 

“Well… King Jon does have a nice ring to it.” 

“As does Queen Sansa, love.” 


End file.
